


Men's Shirts, Short Skirts

by dreamsdescent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Come Marking, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Ron Weasley Bashing, Shameless Smut, just a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsdescent/pseuds/dreamsdescent
Summary: “I happen to like your short skirts,” he whispered. Hermione gasped and met his eyes where they angled toward hers, the grey darkening under his light lashes. “They give me a lovely view of your legs.”Ron makes Hermione cry, Draco sees his opening. ;)Dedicated to Elithien's lovelyDramione Art: Fighting the purity police one porn at at time!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 30
Kudos: 554
Collections: Role Models: A Dramione Smut Challenge (inspired by Elithien)





	Men's Shirts, Short Skirts

“Don't give him your tears.”

Hermione jumped. She had thought for sure no one would find her in this dim alcove, in a nearly unused corridor of the castle. Certainly not while dinner was going on in the Great Hall.

“How did you—did you _follow_ me here, Malfoy?”

“He's not worth it.”

“I'm _not_ crying.” She slid the hand holding her soaked handkerchief between the folds of her robe.

Draco arched an eyebrow and stepped closer, reaching out to touch the side of her cheekbone, where one last traitorous tear had leaked out. Hermione felt her anger rising again.

“He called me a—a—” She couldn't bring herself to say the word, that prudish, misogynistic, _ridiculous—_

“I know.”

“It's not even that. It's just, I'm so sick of him thinking he has the right to tell me what to _do_ all the time. We're not even _dating_.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“Poor Weasley, he's so sick with the fact that he can't have you. He wants to make sure no one else can, either.” Draco took another step closer. He was definitely in her personal space now. His hand moved, reaching for hers.

“Malfoy? What are you...?” He took her handkerchief and threw it on the floor. She could feel the warmth from his hand as it hovered near hers, from his breath as his mouth dipped to her ear.

“I happen to like your short skirts,” he whispered. Hermione gasped and met his eyes where they angled toward hers, the grey darkening under his light lashes. “They give me a lovely view of your legs.” He reached down, slowly tracing one finger over her knee up to the hem, watching her face for permission to go farther.

Hermione could only nod, mouth open and speechless as a wave of heat spread through her core. It was met by the cool castle air as Draco's finger slowly went higher, his wrist lifting the edge of her skirt. Then all she could feel was the warmth of his whole hand as he palmed the gentle curve of her quad, the slope of her hip.

"Did you know you have a little dimple here?" he asked, pressing a spot on the back of her left thigh, just a few inches below her buttock. "And a freckle here?" He traced further around towards the inside of her thigh, leaning fully into her body to be able to reach, placing his other hand on the wall beside her head to steady himself.

"Yes," Hermione managed. Barely.

"So did I," Draco smirked, drawing her attention to his infuriating little mouth, just inches from hers now. It was so small, yet full, the lips pink and curling just right, always smooth and soft, never chapped and rough like—well, hadn't she already wasted enough time on him for one night? Or maybe forever?

Draco was watching her studying him. It was now or never. She had to know how he tasted. She tipped her chin, straining just a little to reach his mouth with her own. She barely had time to register the pliancy of his lips under hers before he was deepening the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as their jaws worked in tandem. The hand on her leg came up further, slipping under the lace of her knickers and kneading the firm flesh there. His fingertips brushed near her center, sending a wave of wetness and pleasure coursing through her. She moaned into his mouth.

Draco pulled away, breathing hard, and fixed her with a hungry look. “Turn around, Granger,” he said quietly. “I want to see.”

Slowly, Hermione pivoted to face the wall, placing both hands on the rough stone. She felt her skirt brushing over her skin as Draco lifted it to her waist, heard his little groan of approval as he snapped her knickers against her ass, then drew them down her legs with both hands. He pulled her hips toward him, deepening the bend of her waist and the arch of her back.

Then—nothing. She waited, feeling a shiver pass over her, though whether from the cold air or something else, she couldn't tell. “Malfoy, please,” she whispered.

A clink of metal and the rustle of fabric, then the warmth—heat—of skin on skin as he pressed his hips against her, his cock resting between her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her and she let out the breath she realized she'd been holding. His hands explored her breasts and belly over her robes and she silently cursed all the layers of fabric these bloody uniforms put between them, but she was too desperate to take the time to remove them now. Too wary of how that might seem like intending this, _planning_ this, too wary of the hesitations that might arise if they interrupted, even for a moment, the need that was driving them.

Hermione reached back for his hip, begging him to _do something already, dammit,_ but the skin there was so smooth, the lines of muscle rippling over bone so fascinating, that she kept her hand there, stroking him, despite the awkward angle.

In answer, his hands moved lower on her body, one gripping the front of her hip bone while the other split open her folds, diving straight for her entrance in a way that overwhelmed her with its roughness, its dominance, its desire. Two fingers pushed inside, thrusting and stroking her inner walls as if exploring their every secret.

“Merlin, Granger, your cunt, my _god_ , so tight, so wet for me—can't tell you how many times—imagined this here, under that fucking skirt—Merlin—driving me mad.” He paused in his babbling to suck on her neck, hard, and she yelped. His hips were rocking with hers now, his cock sliding against her ass. She pulled harder on his hip, wondering if he was going to ever actually _put it inside_ , but instead he found her clit with his thumb and started stroking it side to side in heavy, deliberate movements. He seemed determined to make her come first, and to be honest, she was most of the way there already.

She just needed something... “More.” Her voice surprised her with how breathy and desperate it sounded.

“What's that, Granger? You want more?” She could hear the smirk in his voice and if she wasn't so aroused right now, she would give him a piece of her—but then, all thought left her as he suddenly added a third finger and shifted his pelvis so that his cock was sliding lower down between her legs, instead of up toward her back. It just grazed her asshole on each stroke, a sensation that was utterly new and surprisingly delicious.

She started to moan, a low sound that just kept going. It felt like it was coming from some other world. “That's right, let me hear you. Come on, Granger, come for me,” Malfoy muttered in her ear, following his words with a swipe of his tongue around the lobe. His breath on her neck started a shiver that shot down the side of her ribs and rolled into the electricity that was spreading from her core, where his strokes had become faster and harder. Her orgasm broke almost in slow motion. She could feel her pelvis of its own accord thrusting obscenely on his hand, which he held still, pressing down and dragging out the ragged pulses of her cunt until she was breathless and slumped against the wall.

He held her there for a second, then pulled away, leaving her sweat-damp skin exposed and cooling in the air. She looked over her shoulder to see what in the world he was doing. He was staring at her bare ass, his jaw almost slack, as he palmed his cock. “Malfoy?” she asked, voice wobbly.

“Stay there, Granger.” He sounded like he was trying to be demanding, but it came out more like a prayer. “I want to come on your ass.” Hermione arched her eyebrows at him but did as she was told. He stroked himself faster and harder, practically wringing his cock out with each pass, his hips thrusting a little, involuntarily. Hermione watched languidly, feeling quite relaxed at this point, while Draco wound himself higher and higher. “I'm gonna cover you with my cum, leave it there to dry. Want you to think of this every time you feel me walking behind you in the halls. Feel my eyes on your skirt, knowing I know just what it looks like underneath, just what you've let me do here.” He finished with a hiss, almost of pain, as she felt his heat painting across her ass and upper thighs. There seemed to be an awful lot of it.

When he was done he refastened his own clothing, eyes still pinned on her backside. Then he reached down for her knickers where they had fallen around her ankles, and pulled them up slowly, smearing his fluids which were quickly becoming cool and sticky. He gave her a light swat on one side, then settled her skirt back in place and turned her around.

They looked at each other, unsure what to do now. Then a grin spread across Draco's face as he gripped Hermione's tie, pulling her toward him slightly. “Well now, Granger. Coming on my fingers right in the middle of a Hogwarts corridor. I guess you really _are_ a hussy.”

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!” she retorted, about to march away indignantly, when he stopped her with a kiss, much more gentle than the last, his hand moving to cradle her neck and tangling in her hair. When he pulled away she found herself breathless yet again. He had an inscrutable expression on his face which seemed somehow to mirror the feeling blooming in her chest.

“Let's go, Granger. I bet we can make it back in time for dessert, don't you think?” He extended his arm chivalrously.

“That sounds lovely, Malfoy,” she responded, threading her hand around his elbow.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr or Twitter (though I must warn you it's mostly Star Wars griping over there)


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